


Sensei!

by seinooo



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fluff, M!Byleth - Freeform, M/M, Post-Timeskip, dimileth, i dont know how tags work, idiot puppy gong, just bois bein bois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 02:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20146237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seinooo/pseuds/seinooo
Summary: Byleth reminisces a little, then grabs Dimitri into the sauna for some one-on-one.Dimitri x M!Byleth





	Sensei!

**Author's Note:**

> //silently drops fic out of the blue after years of inactivity
> 
> this kinda like after rodrigue's death. it'll take a while for me to shut up about this, but rodrigue's such a dilf haha  
|D

The first time Byleth met the three heirs was way before the crack of dawn.

He had dreams of a massive war, and an unknown girl, sitting atop a stone dais. When he asked Jeralt what those could mean, the response he got was stuck in his head. Dreams are mere dreams, anyway. He won’t let that get in the way of the present.

Both Jeralt and him made their way to the outskirts of the village. It was then a male voice, with a hint of urgency greeted them, shaking off the remaining of the sandman’s dust from his eyes.

Jeralt was the first one to recognize where they were from, judging from their uniforms.

As they gave a quick update on the situation, Byleth observed the three youths before him, with not even a single emotion rippling over his countenance.

He was first drawn to the blond boy, who was the first to greet them, because of his unwavering voice – it was polite, and gallant at the same time. Then his sight fell onto the oddly slicked hair of the owner of that voice.

When the three were dispatched with him and Jeralt, they chatted a little, made a small introduction of sorts. Byleth’s own face revealed nothing, but his mind was floundering about what in heavens inspired that young man to style his hair like that. He almost wanted to tousle that hair.

Byleth got his chance when he became a professor in the monastery.

Despite being an heir, that blond boy with monstrous strength was still the head of the house – he followed all the orders given to him, sometimes accidentally breaking all the training weapons which he had practically beaten into submission.

He could probably discipline that child over time. Probably. The funds given to him every month was still enough to cover all the damages. Besides, habits can be overwritten within a month.

His teaching experience had been a delight, and found one-on-one tutoring an enjoyable thing. His students’ motivation would increase whenever he praised them. In Dimitri’s case, he would reach out and tousled the bizarre gold locks to his heart’s content. _Mission accomplished! I must do more next week!_

Perhaps it was his nature having bonded with Sothis, who enjoyed growth, the feeling of ‘I must guide and protect’ had been tempered within him (besides needing a higher professor grade so he could fund his class’s activities).

Such feelings also spilled out when they won against Sylvain’s brother and saved Flayn. ‘I’m glad they’re safe,’ was something he never bothered to say, but his expression had been caught by Dimitri.

A soft smile graced Byleth’s face for a second, and it vanished when Dimitri blinked. Were his eyes playing tricks on him?

“Sensei, can you make that expression one more time?”

Byleth blinked, wondering what this child was up to. Yet, he humoured the boy, his own heart amused by how eager he was; he could almost see an imaginary tail wagging behind Dimitri much like a golden retriever.

Little did he know, that smile was the onset of Dimitri’s intense admiration.

The time when they subjugated the three-way battle, it was when Byleth somehow felt satisfied with the class he raised. Every one of his students were weary, but that didn’t diminish their delight for winning the battle. It was also when Dimitri was shocked silly when he made a joke on a feast. Except it wasn’t a joke because Byleth really loved a good feast.

The other house leaders were just as skilled, he thought, but he was extremely proud of his favourite, Dimitri.

“You look so…happy.”

_ Is he implying I don’t look happy most of the time? _ Byleth thought.

“I love seeing you like this.”

_ Hm? Did I just hear something akin to an impending doom? _

“I suppose that look on your face is just another boon from this glorious day. Perhaps the best of all.”

_ Of course, I raised my students well. _

“Sensei, you smiled again.”

_ Was I? … That was because you smiled first, isn’t it?! _

Byleth schooled his features, retrieving his air of calm and collected professor. …He supposed he’s changed a little around these young ones. It’s not like he hated it.

Strangely the week after, Byleth discovered Dimitri’s motivation was really high compared to the rest of his class …So he did what he did best, tutor him to the point of exhaustion. But that didn’t remove the seemingly ecstatic air around his favourite student.

As usual, Byleth was doing errands to make a favourable impression for the students when he caught sight of Dimitri giving his all to his training. The afternoon light caught in the boy’s gold locks somehow looked more dazzling than it usually did.

Byleth nodded silently. He’s improved.

There was also an odd feeling in his own chest which he couldn’t put a finger on – it’s like his heart was being tugged and kneaded from all directions by something soft...

_ How strange. Indigestion? _

He wasn’t sure if he ate too much fish last night.

“Sensei, do you like looking at me?” 

Blue twinkling eyes entered his view. He could feel his heart hammering in shock at Dimitri’s sudden appearance at such proximity. Moreover, why did that sound …smug coming from him?

It was purely out of his own nature that he knew his straight face didn’t reveal his feelings. If he had a sword on his side, he would instinctually draw it out and make a move.

“I’m not looking at you, I’m looking at your hair,” Byleth responded and rubbed the offender’s hair until it became a mess. “Good job today.”

Byleth had long decided that he enjoyed rubbing this boy’s hair.

On the night of the ball, all of Byleth’s students lined up to have their first dance with him. Some of the students from the other classes also joined in on the fun. After a while leading everyone (and sometimes being led in the dances) he decided to take a break outside after snatching some snacks off the refreshment tables.

It seemed like he wasn’t able to dance with Dimitri, understandably so because Dimitri’s charm was off the charts!

_ That was why he won the Heron cup! I’m a very good teacher! _

Feeling pleased with the results, Byleth stretched and took in the cool night air, removing his sight from the still-crowded Dimitri.

It was definitely a habit, but he ended up scanning the perimeter on such joyous occasion despite the guards still stationed about. They had nothing to report, and he was about to return to the ball to grab some more snacks to nibble on when he heard familiar footsteps and soft panting behind him.

“Sensei!”

Byleth was still munching on the last of his snacks when he heard that.

Conspicuous gold locks of hair swishing in the night breeze made a beeline for him.

Was this airhead charmer being chased by girls again?

He dusted the crumbs off his palms, walking over to meet Dimitri halfway.

The two of them made their way to the bell tower, recalling about the rumours about wishing atop the tower would be granted on that specific night. Wishing so that an absent god would hear, Byleth knew why Dimitri would be sceptical. He always had an inkling that Dimitri was chained by great shadows from his past …it would be nice if he could make peace with it.

But it was evident that he couldn’t.

The time when the flame knight’s mask was detached, Byleth could see that the light in Dimitri’s eyes were clouded over, a livid bitterness in Dimitri’s voice echoed in the underground tomb.

The only thing in Byleth’s mind back then was ‘oh no’.

The boy was far more broken than he was when his own tears fell onto Jeralt’s face. As his mentor, Byleth knew he needed to save him from the depths of the darkness. The broken ones needed guidance more than the good ones.

Yet he wasn’t able to.

When the Imperial army raided the monastery, the figure who blocked his sword appeared there as well – and he was forced back as he fell into the dark chasm behind him.

What ran through his mind back then was ‘Oh, no. My students—’

… The vexation of having left them for five years was deeply hidden. All of his former students were changed in some way, but they still call him ‘sensei’.

It was even more apparent when he made his way to the vestiges of Garreg Mach.

Bodies of dead Imperial troops were littered about, and far away from the light shafts shining from above, holding his lance close to his body was a figure hunched on the floor. That familiar blond hair made Byleth hold his breath.

He’s the first to arrive.

Dimitri moved away from the hand that Byleth reached out. There was an indescribable pain in Byleth’s chest. Was he too late? Did he still have a chance…?

He noticed he was really close to becoming one of the phantoms that haunted Dimitri’s waking hours. After calmly listening to Dimitri’s resentments, Byleth finally said, “I’m glad you’re doing fine.”

It wasn’t just pain he was feeling; it was also relief, seeing that Dimitri was there, despite that ‘don’t approach me if you want to live’ aura about him.

“…yeah,” was his only reply as he turned his back on Byleth. That response lit a fire of hope in Byleth’s heart.

He understood now; when Dimitri had taken a liking to something, or someone, he would pour his heart to cherish them. That was why he wasn’t able to let go – to the point he was seeing phantoms. Such quality was to be expected of an heir raised around families of knights. They value loyalty above all else.

One thing Byeth knew was that he wanted to make up to those five years of absence.

_ Clang _! Blades clashed, the figure of blue and black moved deftly that it became an afterimage, countering the sword from an armoured knight in just a step with no wasted movements, effectively disarming the sword as he did.

Dimitri returned the lance he was holding, dismissed the knight who was saluting reverently towards him.

“Sensei.”

Byleth held his chin seemingly deep in thought. A lot happened since those years. Dimitri was somehow on the right track now, at the cost of Rodrigue’s death.

Dimitri’s words were no longer resentful, and more importantly, he was willing to listen to his comrades – an important thing to have for a lord.

“What are you looking at?” The gold locks were somehow speckled with dirt.

“Your hair,” Byleth replied with what he hoped was a straight face.

What he didn’t know was he had narrowed his eyes slightly, and his calm composure was lost.

Dimitri’s eye widened for a fraction of a second before pursing his lips as he lowered his gaze. His fists were clenched hard, thinking if he had angered his sensei at some point that day.

“Come.” Without waiting for Dimitri’s response, he grabbed the tall man’s wrist and dragged him off to the direction of the saunas.

After filling an empty tub with water and having heated it up, Byleth leisurely making Dimitri do all the hard work while he rummaged through his unsorted storage for the item he always used.

“Sensei,” came Dimitri’s voice, it was magnified in the saunas due to how bare it was. “Do you need any more help?” He could vaguely see Byleth’s figure moving about in the large, steamy bathroom, his heart palpitating wildly as he anticipated what was about to come when he heard Byleth’s command.

“Strip.”

“Huh?” Nevertheless, Dimitri couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

“Don’t make me say it twice.”

“Yes, sir.”

_ Thunk _! Piece by piece, his armour dropped to the tiles, creating a cacophony of clangs. Despite the deafening noise, Byleth kept his face straight, inwardly sighing. “Come here once you’re done.”

“Of course, sensei!” There was a clear excitement projected in Dimitri’s voice.

Byleth covered his mouth, doing his best to prevent a grin to form on his face. Dimitri is still Dimitri. The vengeful persona was still Dimitri, the polite and eager dog who follows his every order was Dimitri, the lost and lonely one was Dimitri, the one who took his hand was Dimitri, the one who got his growth spurt was still Dimitri – whose muscles developed better over the five years they were apart—

“Sensei?”

Truly the epitome of an optimal body of a hardened High Lord.

“Sensei, what are you looking at?”

Byleth hadn’t realised his favourite student was now a fully-grown man. Even reaching up to his head proved to be a tad bit difficult. He would need to pull him down by the neck. “Your hair,” he said simply.

“Are you sure?”

What did he mean by that? “Yes, there’s dirt in it.” Byleth tilted his head a little, not understanding. “Sit.”

Dimitri raised an eyebrow in silence before letting out a long sigh. Then he obediently sat down on the stool Byleth pushed forward, feeling the warm water pour over his back, on his neck, down his arms – the warmth was just right, and the faint fragrance made him feel at ease.

_ It smells like sensei. _

“Don’t slouch.”

“…” _ Sensei, are you my father? _ He straightened his back to avoid getting smacked on by Byleth. 

Lately his sensei never held back on giving him a piece whenever he did any wrong. 

Ever since the tearful breakthrough on the night Rodrigue was buried, Dimitri’s eyes kept seeking sensei’s figure. Even when there’s no sensei in front of him, he would still keep that person with soft green hair in his peripheral vision as much as he could.

Sometimes when he couldn’t chase Byleth around, he would listen for the familiar rustle of his sleeves. Or the light steps against the stones. Or the greetings of ‘sensei!’ that would follow in his wake. Sensei had a certain gait he had long memorised in his heart.

He was aware of what the feeling was, it remained in temporal stasis for the five years they were apart as he had thought sensei was gone forever, and that he really had no time to pursue it.

There was a time when his determination wavered, where he couldn’t help but yell, ‘Sensei, stand back!’ when he noticed the enemy brought backups as they defended the monastery from the Empire troops.

His lance found its way to the enemy commander, but he let the commander live, intent to make him suffer with torture.

In the end, it was sensei who ended the commander’s life, telling him that he couldn’t watch anymore.

Dimitri was seething inside back then; he didn’t want to know why sensei said what he said, but now he understood. Sensei had always been his protector, an anchor to keep him grounded lest he ascended to madness.

Sensei was there when he asked him what he should do, having lost so much.

Words couldn’t describe his feelings when he took sensei’s hand in the rain. Sensei’s warm hand was like a ray of guiding light for him who couldn’t get his emotions and thoughts in check.

_ Splash _!

Right now, the feelings that were left buried in a tiny corner of his heart was slowly seeping out from every pore.

Rough, callused hands ran over his latest scar on his back. The touch was gentle, careful even. Even with healing magic, there were some large scars that would remain. He had no proficiency in white magic, so all of his wounds were treated with bottles of concoctions.

Dimitri could only imagine what expression sensei was wearing behind him.

Hearing no words or movements from behind, Dimitri wanted to say something, or rather, wanted sensei to say something. Who would’ve thought that as soon as he turned, sensei firmly grasps the sides of his head, making him face the front.

“I can’t wash your hair if you don’t take off the eyepatch.” There was a slight shakiness in sensei’s voice.

“Alright,” he replied without an ounce of hesitation and proceeded to pull off the strap over his head before tossing the eyepatch over to a wooden shelf where he left his clothes.

It crashed onto the wooden surface and the shelf fell apart effortlessly.

Ah.

“The shelf’s probably old,” Byleth muttered.

“…Yeah.” Dimitri didn’t have the heart to tell sensei that they replaced the shelves for the saunas after the monastery was retaken from bandits.

Byleth lathered his hands with the soap he cut off from his stash and pulled the whole fringes of Dimitri’s hair to the back, running his fingers through so that the soap got to the scalp, completely unaware of how Dimitri stiffened on the stool with his fists clenched.

Then he massaged the crown of the head and down to the nape of Dimitri’s neck, alternating between gentle and hard. Seeing how still the young man in front of him was, Byleth couldn’t help but to take advantage of it and took his time with the hair. Aah, this is like washing a dog.

The massage alerted him and then lulled him to the point of drowsiness until sensei tilted his chin, causing him to look up, meeting sensei’s unflinching gaze. He really didn’t know what was in sensei’s mind.

The last thing he heard was ‘close your eyes’ and a warm hand caressed his head; he couldn’t control the tingles he felt coursing down his back. Water was poured, rinsing his hair. He could feel sensei’s fingers tracing softly over the scar over the unusable eye.

Then he heard sensei’s almost inaudible voice, “I think I’m doing this wrong.” Sensei shuffled around and was now in front of him, cradling the back of his head before he let sensei pull his head to face front.

He had ever thought he would associate sensei with precious until he held sensei’s hand that night. His shaking hand on top of sensei’s palm. Layers of realisation hit him, of how much he held feelings for sensei. When he had held onto sensei’s hand for good knows how long, sensei pulled him into an embrace, telling him, ‘It’s enough. You’ll be okay now.’

Once a body came into contact with how warm and secure a tight embrace is, one would loathe to part with those feelings. He wanted sensei to rub his back again, whispering into his ear.

He wanted more. More of that touch, that warmth… he wanted his sensei.

Dimitri listened to the bucket submerging into the bathwater nearby, sensei’s soft breaths, and when he peeked through his good eye, he was greeted with a lithe body with wet clothes bending to the side to lift the bucket out.

A pale skin exposed underneath the hem greeted him, causing him to swallow a large amount of spit, his jaws clenched in silence.

If he made a move, sensei would use everything in the bathroom as a weapon against him, from the soap to the stool or even the bucket; nothing would be spared. If there is another him standing around, sensei would use that other him as a weapon too.

He was stronger in terms of physical strength, but sensei had years of experience and was well versed in multitudes of offensive skills.

How frustrating.

All he needed was ice-cold water to counter these rising desires.

And all he had was a small piece of towel covering his lower area.

How _ utterly _frustrating.

So close yet he couldn’t sneakily have a taste.

_ You must persevere, Dimitri _, he imagined sensei speaking those words. However, his mind was a chaotic mess right now, all he could conjure up was sensei underneath him, reaching out to touch his hair just like he was doing now—

_ …Curses _.

He could feel a certain thing between his legs waking up.

“Se— sensei.” His voice came out rough. He hurriedly took the bucket from sensei’s hands and cleared his throat, having no effect to diminish the hoarseness. “I can do this on my own.”

“Oh, right. I was thinking about your wounds.” Sensei laughed; Dimitri found that he liked hearing sensei laughing. If anyone asked him what’s an example of ‘music to his ears’, he would put sensei’s laugh in the list.

“I’m fine. They’re fine now.”

“Okay. I’ll get cleaned up too.”

At that moment Dimitri could hear his (imaginary) wall of willpower crack. Cursing what gods are left, he turned around and poured the bucket over himself. His heartbeats rose steadily as his ears perked to the sounds of sensei undressing himself.

This will be the death of me, Dimitri lamented. He needed to get out of this place, but sensei was still near the entrance, fiddling with the remnants of the shelf. After casting a glance on sensei’s unblemished back, he rinsed everything off himself and proceeded for his hasty escape, covering his crotch with the bucket.

Good thing it’s still steamy around here. He shouldn’t show sensei this nasty side of his, no. Not yet.

“Oh, Dimitri there’s still the soap over there—”

Dimitri stepped on something like a slippery rock, and his whole body lunged forward.

Byleth, arms poised and ready to catch him – in fact, it was a brilliant catch, his hold was firm on Dimitri’s waist and another hand was on his back. “I’ve got you…?”

Dimitri blanked out, his body was pressed against sensei, and the damned bucket flew off somewhere and fell with a resonating thunk in the room.

He didn’t hate it, he could never hate it, but now’s not a good time – but the sensation of sensei’s body was more than enough to make him burst, but sensei, what would sensei do, what could he say to save himself from this predicament?

“Sorry!” both of them said, removing themselves from each other. Neither of them knew that both of them felt like they’re taking advantage of the other at that moment.

Dimitri was about to circle around Byleth when he stepped on the trail of the damned soap this time, slipping for a second time.

Byleth didn’t waste any time, grasping dimitri’s narrow waist while spreading his own legs to a steady centre of gravity, much like a dance dip he taught Dimitri for the Heron cup.

“...Sensei?”

“That was my fault,” Byleth claimed, pulling Dimitri straight back up. “Let me help with that.”

Dimitri couldn’t believe his ears, in his mind warhorns sounded, and any more could— 

The next moment, Dimitri found himself sat on the edge of the tub with sensei’s head between his legs. It would’ve made a good picture had it not been sensei staring—no, glaring at his stiff peak like he had encountered a mortal enemy.

“It’s …big, for lack of a better word.”

Dimitri couldn’t hear the gulp but he could see sensei’s throat move in nervousness. Anyone could tell this was his first time seeing something that size. “Sensei, I can take care of this.”

“No.” A strong grip covered around the girth, making Dimitri exhale a hiss.

A warm breath hovered the tip for a second, and it was enveloped in a warm and soft sensation. The hands that were holding his shaft slowly pumped up and down. Every few bobs, sensei slid his tongue over the tip, his saliva mixed with the leaking cum. The sounds they made was obscene, and it almost caused him to tip over into the tub in his excitement.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to leave his eyes open of savour the feeling with his eyes closed. Sensei’s movements were a little clumsy, but seeing him do his best to make him feel better, there was a sudden surge of warmth in his chest.

Dimitri pushed a lock of hair sticking to sensei’s face behind his ear, exposing more of the reddened face and beads of sweat rolling down his jaw, which served only to amplify his desire.

Waves of pleasure built up the more sensei increased his speed, the fluid dribbling down the length of his manhood served to smoothen sensei’s movements and by now his hands glided up and down vigorously.

“Sensei,” he called out, his voice thick with lust.

“Mm?”

_ Pop _. Sensei’s lips left him.

The vibrations made by sensei’s hum while he was inside felt damn good, making him feel a little loss when sensei let go altogether. “Could you take in as much as you can?”

“…I’ll try.”

With that, sensei took him again and resumed his work. This time, Dimitri ran his hands through sensei’s hair and applying a soft pressure on the scalp, noticing how the man below him would twitch and hum in pleasure on certain points.

Looks like sensei also love being held.

Sensei’s movements were slowing down a little, as he had taken him in deeper than before, and he could feel sensei’s soft tongue wrapped around him. 

He was close, his own shallow breaths were now accompanied with grunts. “Sensei, I’m…”

As if on cue, sensei tightened his hands a little and he shot inside sensei’s mouth.

“Hack! Hack!”

Coughs echoed in the room and Dimitri patted his sensei’s back. “Spit it out, sensei.”

Reddish lips part to reveal what’s left of the white sticky fluid. “You’re… still hard.”

Naturally, he could go more rounds, but … It was then Dimitri noticed it. “Sensei is too.”

“…” Sensei pursed his lips, fists clenched in protest. “This is…”

The sight of sensei holding his shame in silence made him feel euphoric. A thought came into his head. “Let’s help each other, sensei.”

There was a slight hesitation in the older man’s eyes, but he seemed to come to a resolve and nodded, looking steadfast into Dimitri’s eyes.

Then the two of them shamelessly did it again; against the wall, in the bathtub, grinding their manhood together; Dimitri’s own hardness feeling the friction and soft pressure of sensei’s thighs, flaring up their lust over and over again.

They ended their activities with cleaning up for real, both sitting close to each other in comfortable silence.

Once dressed, Dimitri could see the usual expressionless face of sensei, and his heart couldn’t help but wonder, sensei was that kind – what if … “Sensei, do you to these kind of things with other people?”

Byleth froze, before throwing this idiot blond youngster a sharp look. He beckoned for him to come closer. “You,” he began. Reaching up both hands to Dimitri’s cheeks. “Absolute.” He pinched them hard. “Idiot.”

“Henhei...”

Thinking how Dimitri wouldn’t get it unless he was told exactly how it was, he patted Dimitri’s cheeks, wiping the tears forming out of that sky-blue eye. “I don’t do this kind of thing with anyone except for you. But you need to practice some self-control.”

“Huh?” Upon hearing that, Dimitri’s sullen look morphed into a happy, good dog mode. “Does that mean…”

“Need I say more? Go sleep.”

“Yes sir!”

Byleth watched Dimitri jogged towards the dormitory; he couldn’t believe such a harmless plan of ‘oh you look like something what the cats would drag in, let me clean you up’ would go awry.

He didn’t think he’d get that far either.

Boldly trying to ‘help relieve’ Dimitri, and that young man was even more eager to be helped! Aagh, that was embarrassing! What’s done was done, but he knew they shouldn’t rush things. 

His thighs were red from being rubbed for a long time, and he needed rest. There was no penetration but the things they did in there would put a sinner to shame.

…And they didn’t even kiss.

What kind of development was this?!

He leaned against the wall, letting out a huge sigh as he held his warm cheeks. The thought of a real kiss somehow sent blood rushing to his head again. This was Dimitri after all, give him an inch, he’d _claim_ a mile.

Somehow… he didn’t hate such notions?

He recalled how embarrassingly hard he got when taking Dimitri in his mouth, and how exceptionally loud the moans he couldn’t suppress.

_ I’m such a bad example. _

“Sensei,” Dimitri called, turning around. “I wanted to know if we could…” What greeted him was sensei holding his face with his cheeks evidently flushed, looking at him like a deer caught in a hunter’s line of sight.

The only thing in Byleth’s mind was, ‘He saw me.’ His mouth moved, but no words came out.

And for Dimitri, ‘Ah.’ Cannons were shot and fireballs were launched from a distance – his heart was in overdrive and at that moment, he needed to know one thing. His large steps returned to sensei, catching sensei’s wrists in his hands. “Sensei, do you always make that face when I wasn’t around?”

Poor Byleth didn’t know where to hide his face, instead he looked everywhere but Dimitri’s handsome face hovering dangerously close to his own. He had always kept an air of indifference as to not play favourites, but it was really hard not to when he was caught unawares like this, especially by Dimitri. He had no excuses fitting for such occasion. “Yes,” he answered weakly; gods be damned.

The castle walls in Dimitri’s mind have now been decimated and he took sensei’s whole body in his arms, sighing a deep sigh down the pale green hair. He took a mental note on how sensei shivered against his breath; a sensation that never failed to make him elated.

He inhaled the smell that were his source of calm. “Sensei.” Dimitri could feel him stiffen a little. He raised sensei’s chin and planted a chaste kiss between his eyebrows. Then his lips moved to the corners of sensei’s eyes, and his warm cheeks until he slowly gave a peck on those quivering lips.

That night, Dimitri learned something new about his sensei. When sensei gets embarrassed, he hides it behind that iron fortress expression. That also meant Dimitri’s the one who missed all those heart tugging expressions whenever he wasn’t around sensei.

But he also knew he’s the only one who managed to find out. “Thank you, sensei.” Sensei’s face couldn’t go any redder than that, and Dimitri found that endearing.

Hence, he decided to push a little, wanting to see more of sensei’s teary face, “Sensei, can I sleep in your room tonight?”

“…”

A crisp smack sounded in the still night, followed by a pained grunt; not long after that, ‘Sensei, I apologise!’ trailed behind steady footsteps.

**Author's Note:**

> The Boar Prince will always be a Boar Prince.
> 
> thanks for reading!  
do tell if you spot any typo haha, my head spins trying to find them


End file.
